Danger Indeed
by Lisa jean
Summary: But they're not just trapped in an elevator. There's general danger you would've never expected to see the bohemians in! Collins and the group.
1. After Twelve

Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, obviously. All Jonathan Larson's.

Author's Note: Story written for my bestest, and it's the two story ideas she gave me fused into one, sort of. The requirements:

Sex(ual references), drugs, murder, and Collins. / Roger and Collins stuck in an elevator.

* * *

_One... two..._

Collins leaned up against the wall of the elevator, supporting himself up with his hands on the railing behind him. Roger stood next to him, arms crossing, his slouch similar to that of the Collins. Roger absentmindedly tapped his fingers on his upper arm to the soft tune of the music that streamed out of the speakers above, watching the red number of their current floor level increase slowly.

_Three... Four... Five..._

"I don't see why we have to see Mo and Jo anyways," Roger pouted to Collins, tugging on his threadbare leather jacket. Collins only replied with a hearty laugh and a playful slap to Roger's back.

_Six..._

"I guess I could use some lunch, though." Roger reasoned with himself as he ran a hand through his hair. He turned to Collins with a shrug and a weak smile, hoping Collins would agree.

"Rog, boy, c'mon." Collins sighed. "Get some fresh air in those lungs." He teased, pressing a finger into Roger's rib. Roger responded to Collins touch with a stifled giggle and an awkward twitch, fighting off the tickle.

_Seven... eight..._

Roger groaned, looking back up at the story they were now on. Why did elevators take so long? And why did Joanne have to live on the millionth floor of the building? Roger sighed, adjusting his stance out of pure boredom. Collins watched the antsy character beside him, noting the A.D.D. tendencies Roger always showed.

_Nine..._

"What floor do they live on?" Roger whined, letting his head roll to his side to look at Collins with pleading puppy dog eyes. Collins gave a chuckle and pointed his head towards the lit button among the many.

"Do you see the number highlighted, Rog? That's the floor we need to get to." Collins scratched at his forehead. "We're almost there." He said as a last thought, joining Roger to watch the floor number increase.

_Ten... eleven... twelve... ?_

Roger raised an eyebrow curiously before turning to Collins. He glanced back in hopes that the number had changed and he was in fact slowing time with his mind. But it was still beaming those two red digits: 12. Roger took a deep breath, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"Collins," he said, worry lining his friends name. "Collins, the number's not going up." Roger ran a hand through his hair as he stood up straight.

"I'm sure it's just broken," Collins replied, pointing to the screen above the metal doors. "We're probably almost to Mo's floor." Collins said, dismissing Roger's panic. But panic struck Roger's face once more when the elevator jerked back down just the slightest before returning to it's spot. The light's flickered while the music skipped, before everything returned to normal – besides the movement of the elevator.

Roger closed his eyes as he took a breath, Collins reaching over to pat him on the back. How could he be so calm? Roger's hands were clutching the railing behind him so tightly his knuckles were white. But Collins had the same easy smile as he always held, obviously sure everything would be just fine.


	2. Never Assume

Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson's.

Author's Note: Happy belated birthday, Shelley! Chapter two is up for you.

* * *

Collins sat leaning against the corner of the elevator walls, his eyes closed as he strummed a tune on his leg, a tune Angel would play for him often. A simple tune she had taught him to drum out on her pickle tub one rainy night. She giggled sweetly as Collins fumbled with her drumsticks, returning them to Angel and asking if she would show him... just one more time. Angel had played the tune several more times, and finally Collins could drum it out himself. Of course it was a bit slower than the quick pace Angel had acquired over years of practice.

Roger sat beside Collins, his legs crossed indian-style, looking directly ahead into those steel elevator doors. He bit at his lip anxiously, rubbing his hands together for the warmth he– for once in his life- didn't need. As his eyes were glazed over by his thoughts, he pictured in his mind holding onto Mimi who would without a doubt be home by now. Or even strumming Musetta's Waltz on his guitar next to Mark who would film random objects of the loft as he narrated each action he made.

"Collins, what if we die in here?" Roger asked, more of a joke and a reason to break the silence than as a real question. Collins opened an eye, inspecting Roger's face before opening the other and sitting upright.

"Well, our souls will be set free to wander in a dark abyss known as the afterlife for eternity, waiting for the rest of the gang to join them." He gave Roger a smug smile. "Hopefully someone'll be smart enough to bring the Stoli."

Roger stared at Collins for a moment, telling himself Collins was only joking. It was just a joke. They'd be perfectly fine. And with that thought, they continued to sit in silence, thinking their separate thoughts.

* * *

"Honeybear, you looked fine in the zebra print shirt, why'd you change?" Joanne asked, standing in the bathroom doorway. She watched as Maureen looked in the mirror, applying a thick coat of vibrant red lipstick to her already bright lips.

"Well Pookie, I thought that it was more of a..." Maureen glanced down at her shirt. "More of a bird sort of day." She ran her hands over the black outlines of delicate birds soaring through the skies of the delicate blue-gray fabric of her shirt. Joanne only smiled, leaning into the bathroom, her lips puckered. Maureen emptied the gap between their lips as they met in a soft peck.

"Well finish getting ready, Roger and Collins should be here any minute now." Joanne said, looking down at her watch. As she began walking away from the bathroom she called, "What do you want for lunch, hun? The Life?" She went through her wallet, confirming that she would have enough money to pay for four people.

"Yeah, sounds great, Pookie." Maureen said, spritzing herself with some perfume that was extremely strong. Joanne could already smell it wafting into their bedroom. "And maybe we could go out for ice cream after? I think that'd be nice, right Jo?" Maureen suggested exiting the bathroom.

She reached her hands around Joanne, who didn't realize how close her girlfriend was until she was pressed against her back. She smiled, giving a nod as she placed her wallet into the deep pocket of her slacks.

"We'll see." She said, turning to face Maureen, placing a kiss on her forehead. And with that the door knocked and an unnecessary squeal came from Maureen as she raced over to the door, her black stiletto heels clanking on the wood floor.

"Roger, Collins." She cried in a sing-song voice as she undid the locks on the door. "I haven't seen you guys in forev-" she paused, blushing. "Oh I'm sorry, I thought you were my friends, can I help you?" She questioned the stranger at the door.


End file.
